Chapter Text
Verso Dessendre steps out of the frame, eyes locked on his mother, he reaches a hand towards her, not expecting to feel the fabric of her dress and warmth of her skin beneath his fingers.
He pulls his hand away as though he's been burnt, eyes darting around wildly, squinting at the brightness. The woman, Aline, seems to break from a trance, clearly pushed out of the canvas. She stares at him, bewildered, before pulling him into a suffocating hug.
“I thought I lost you,” She sobs into his chest. “I never thought I'd get to hold you like this again!”
Verso wraps his arms around her, feeling the heat of her body, leaning forward to rest his head on top of hers. His head spins, he feels something pounding in his chest, he thinks he might be dying. She pulls away, hands sliding down his arms and grasping his hands. She stares into his eyes, but Verso can only look at the wall behind her. He briefly glances down, her cheeks are tear-stained, and her eyes are tired. He doesn’t know what to say.
Two people step from the canvas, an older man, and a young woman, whose face is scarred. He knows them, at least a version of them. Renoir and Maelle, no, Alicia. His father and sister. He stares again, his arms hang loose in his mother’s grasp. There was frustration on his fathers face, Alicia looks blank, her head hangs low in defeat. Blood rushes in his ears, Aline’s voice seems muted, she pulls away from him facing the older man. Renoir says something, his voice is cold, he looks right through Verso, as though he isn’t there, the sound doesn’t quite reach his ears, but he thinks the man is speaking to him. His breath comes in short bursts, the feeling in his chest, Verso thinks, must be his heart. Aline touches his arm. His head snaps towards her.
“Come,” She says. “Let me show you to your room, and you can rest. I’m sure you are tired after all that .”
She pats his arm and takes one of his hands, she looks happy, he lets her pull him away from the others, down some grand hallway, a sense of familiarity fills the space, dim lighting soothing his senses. He takes slow deep breaths attempting to ground himself in this new world. Aline finally stops in front a single dark wooden door.
“This is your old room,” She says. “I’ve put out some clothes for you, and there are others in the drawers. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to sleep in those filthy things.”
Aline acts like nothing is different, as though Verso had returned from a lengthy stay abroad, but it doesn’t feel right. Verso had never stepped foot in this room, it didn’t belong to him.
“There is a bathroom through there, so you can wash up.” She continues, but Verso can’t focus.
When he doesn’t respond she quietly exits the room, the door closing with a soft click. He stands alone, still barely registering his surroundings. He focuses again, on his breathing, and looks down at his hands. They are still stained with dirt and blood, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He wonders if he could turn back now, return to the canvas and force it all to disappear, he wasn’t supposed to be here, he didn’t even know how this was possible.
His shock gives way to anger, the energy in his blood runs hot, how could she do this to him? Why couldn’t she just let him go?
He paces the room, thoughts racing. He needs to go back, this needs to end, he doesn’t think he can go on any longer. He takes a few short strides towards the door with new-found resolve, and reaches for the door knob, when his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of hushed angry voices. He does not know if he cares, but presses his ear to the door anyway.
“How could you do this, Aline?” He recognized the voice as Renoirs. “It shouldn’t even be possible!”
“How could I not?” She responds. “He deserves a chance to live!”
“Live?” Renoir shouts back. “That is not your son! He died! You cannot play with things you do not understand!”
A third voice interjects. Verso has heard it before, only not here.
“This is ridiculous.” It says. “We have more pressing things to worry about. Just leave it be, if it will get her to stop this nonsense, I don’t care.”
It’s Clea, ever the realist. He doubts she wants him there any more than Renoir does. But she seems worried about other things.
Verso jumps at a soft knock on his door, he feels he knows who it is. He opens the door just a crack, and Alicia slips in. The real Verso would have been a source of comfort for his younger sister, he can’t act surprised that she would seek him out now. She doesn’t say anything, but moves to sit on the edge of the bed. He closes the door and joins her, leaving a gap between them. She still doesn’t speak. She can’t.
“Why?” He asks, maybe not of Alicia, maybe he just needs to say it. “I don’t want to be here.”
Verso suppresses a sob, his chest feels tight. Alicia places a hand over his, her expression unreadable.
“I don’t belong here. Don’t you understand?” He feels anger and grief catching in his throat.
“Please.” He begs “Send me back, end this. Let me erase the canvas, please.”
Alicia’s silence is deafening. The sound of muffled voices leaks in from the gap beneath the door. Verso heaves a breath, fighting the tears that threaten to spill over his cheeks. He feels tired, so tired. He wonders if this will ever end, if he will ever be at peace.
“I am not your brother,” He whispers. “I don’t belong here.”
Alicia looks up at him, “I’m sorry.” She rasps. The two words take great effort to say. Her breath comes in rough gasps.
He turns away from Alica, and pulls his hand away, pressing them into his face, and lets himself cry.
***
Sciel stares into the empty space where the canvas had been, her body feels numb. She turns to her party, Lune’s eyes are vacant, staring at nothing, and Monoco seems to be waiting for something to happen. Sciel lets her weapon dissolve.
“Is that it?” Sciel asks no one in particular, throwing her hands up. “What happens now?”
Monaco starts to walk away, he looks almost sad, though he has no face. Lune’s eyes flick towards her.
“I don't know.” She responds. “Maelle said they’d come back, that they were leaving the canvas for a bit. She promised she’d fix things.”
Sciel grabbed Lune’s hand, pulling her towards her, and holding her in a hug.
“So we just wait," she says. “Maelle wouldn’t abandon us. You too Monoco. It will be okay.”
She turns to the Gesteral, Lune still in her arms. Monoco only glances back, but he does not stop walking. Sciel feels the warmth of the body in her arms, Lune’s heart beat pressed against hers, she hopes she is right.